


Something (Just) Like This

by AnastenLights



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: I don't normally write fluff but I really wanted to write this so here you go, I listened to the same song for 5 days, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Slow Dancing, why did i do that - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 01:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16944675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnastenLights/pseuds/AnastenLights
Summary: Sometimes you both have the same idea.And sometimes that idea just happens to be to propose to your boyfriend at a fancy holiday party.





	Something (Just) Like This

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally write romance (or fluff in general), but I had an idea and decided to roll with it! Unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Simmons stood in front of the mirror, fumbling with his tie and muttering quietly to himself as he tried to get the fabric to obey his bidding. It was maroon, with tiny flecks of gold thread visible in a pattern of stars on the darker fabric.

And it was  _ not  _ cooperating.

It seemed to Simmons the more he attempted to wrangle the tie the more knotted it became. Which was a problem, with it being tied around his neck and all. He was so lost in thought trying to get the material to loop around the right way Simmons almost didn’t notice the knock on the door, or Grif leaning on his shoulder against the doorframe. Almost. 

It was a rare sight to see Dexter Grif put any sort of extra effort into his appearance, but on the rare occasion he did… well, Simmons would never be able to turn down a formal-attire event again if it meant he got to see Grif in a suit like that. Grif had pulled his hair back into the usual bun with an orange hair band to hold it in place, occasional stray strands of hair sneaking their way out and onto his face.

He walked over to Simmons and grabbed the end of the tie, “Need a hand?”

Simmons released the tie and allowed Grif to begin slowly unravelling the knot that had formed in it. “... I’ve- I’ve never actually tied a tie before,” he admitted. He could feel his face burning in that involuntary way it did sometimes, getting all bright & red like a tomato. “I was hoping I could figure it out before-”

Grif cut him off, pushing his index finger onto Simmons’ lips.

“Dude, it’s fine. Kai actually just showed me how to do this the other day, it’s surprisingly not as complicated as it seems. Here-” Grif finished unravelling the tie and begun to wrap the red fabric around itself in a calm, almost rhythmic fashion. 

“Kai showed- wait you mean you’ve never-”

Grif laughed. “Never in my life. Until Kai pulled me aside yesterday and wouldn’t let me free until she’d taught me how to do it that is.” He finished with the tie. “Still not really sure what was up with that. She was  _ crazy  _ insistent.”

“Guess she was just tired of seeing that clip-on with the little pizzas on it.” 

“Yeah, that must be it. Something like that”

Simmons turned to face the mirror, fiddling with his collar. “How much you want to bet that even though we’re already late we’ll get down there and not a single person is ready and waiting for us?”

Grif shook his head fervently, “There’s no way we’re leaving for at least another hour. It’ll take Donut & Kai  _ eons  _ to get ready if we let them. Tucker too, though he’s started to take less time now that Wash is here.” 

“That’s true. If Wash and Carolina are anything to go off of, the Freelancers were always put on a  _ very  _ tight schedule.”

Simmons glanced at his watch, frowning at the time. “Still, we should be heading out soon. The party doesn’t start until six, but we’ve still got about 45 minutes of travel time before we get there.”

Grif shrugged. “Simms,  _ relax _ for a minute will you? It’s just the Winter Festival, and it’s not like Kimball will be too surprised if we show up a few minutes late.”

“You know, I think she’d be more surprised if we were actually on time” Simmons ran his comb through his hair one last time before stuffing it into his pocket along with a few other things. “Either way, we should probably be leaving soon.” He took a few steps towards the door, then turned back to Grif, “You ready to go?”

“Am I ready?” Grif gestured to himself dramatically, grinning. “Simmons you’re talking to the man who was  _ born  _ ready for  _ anything _ .”  

He had materialized a mini package of oreos from somewhere. Simmons grabbed it as he walked past, putting it up on a nearby shelf. “You do realize they’re serving us dinner once we get to Armonia?”

“I do,” Grif said, grabbing the bag and resuming his munching. “But Simms that’s not for another  _ four hours _ , there’s  _ way  _ too much time between now and then to go without eating!”

“Good, so you’ll still be hungry when it’s time to eat, fatass!”

“For the record, when have I ever not been hungry?”

“... _ Touché.”  _

The trip to Chorus was fairly uneventful- Simmons spent much of the ride sleeping, head resting against Grif’s shoulder. 

Caboose had begun animatedly telling Wash about the newest mural he’d started working on, the ex-Freelancer looking mildly interested as he tried to work on a drawing of his own. The two of them had recently bonded over a shared interest in art, and Wash had recommended Caboose to Kimball, who had agreed to put him to work as part of the planet’s restoration project painting murals across the city in Armonia. 

Tucker had also fallen asleep, somehow able to sleep while sitting sandwiched between Caboose and Donut, who was resting against a large stack of packages that had been left from the last trip no one had bothered to take care of. 

When they arrived on Chorus they met up with Kimball and Kai, who had gotten an apartment space in Armonia and had set up a successful business she ran with a few friends she’d made shortly after arriving on the planet. 

Caboose eagerly showed them the murals he’d been working on for the past few months as they walked through the city. It had been awhile since any of them (excluding the freelancers and Caboose, who all travelled there regularly) had been to Chorus since the whole fiasco with the Blues and Reds.

It was more than a little breathtaking to look at how much the city had changed since then. The Chorus Restoration program was really paying off. 

The entire city seemed to be decorated with strings of bright white lights that had seemingly been draped over every available surface possible. Aside from a few half-constructed buildings and the occasional armor-wearing individual, it’s almost easy to forget there had been a full-blown civil war not long before.

Simmons felt his heart sink for a moment as he recalled everything that had happened when they’d gone up against Temple and his gang. He and Grif had never really talked about what had happened back then, and while Simmons was glad to have Grif back he couldn’t help but think about the fact he’d just-  _ left.  _ Left the moon. Left to find a long-dead friend he didn’t even  _ really  _ care about. Left his  _ best friend _ . 

‘ _ I didn’t even try and go back for him after he said he quit,’  _ Simmons couldn’t quite shake the feeling there was something each of them needed to tell the other, but were both too afraid to say it. He certainly was. 

By this point they had all but arrived at their destination, a building usually reserved for ceremonies & other important events (like the Festival) that -if possible- contained more lights around the grounds than the rest of the city.

Dinner was relatively uneventful, but by the time he’d finished Simmons excused himself, muttering a quick excuse about needing some fresh air before leaving the room. He didn’t exactly have a plan of where he was headed, so he wandered through the halls. 

Soon his wandering took him upstairs and Simmons found himself standing on one of the upper-level balconies. The cold winter air chilled him to the bone it was the view that took his breath away. A veil of clouds had descended on the city as the night fell, draping the city in a white vapor. The tiny molecules shimmered in the setting sun in dazzling contrast to the millions of tiny white dots from the festival lights spread throughout the city. 

He let himself relax, leaning against a railing to get a better view of the lights. He should be getting back soon. From where he stood Simmons could hear the soft muted murmurings of all of Chorus gathering for the traditional dance they had decided would be part of the Festival. 

“Sure is a nice night.”

“Wh-what _?”  _ Simmons sputtered, looking around with a start. 

He hadn’t noticed Grif approaching until the orange marine was standing to his left, forearms resting on the railing in his usual relaxed fashion. “Oh, erm- yeah. Sure is.”

They stood in silence for a moment. All was quiet save for the muted sounds of the party inside. It really  _ was  _ a nice night. Peaceful. At rest. 

Armonia sure was peaceful at night these days. Beautifully decorated for the season and finally at rest. It felt good to see Chorus at ease- after enduring so much war and turmoil the people had certainly earned some peace and quiet. 

“Hey Grif?”

“Hmm?”

_ ‘Here goes nothing… let’s hope I don’t fuck this up.’  _ “Remember back when we were fighting the Blues and Reds and you couldn’t tell the difference between me and Gene?”

“Simmons you both had the same armor color and somehow the same fucking  _ voice, _ how was I  _ supposed  _ to know?”

“Yeah true, but shut up for a minute and let me finish.” Simmons said. “What I’m trying to say- and we’ve been asking it for  _ years _ ever since back in Blood Gulch but I never really thought about it and-  _ Why are we here? _ ” He finally spurted out, flustered. 

Grif was confused. “You alright Simmons? I seem to remember having a very _ distinct  _ conversation about how we won’t ever actually know the answer to that. You brought up Star Wars  _ and  _ Star Trek in the same conversation and even now I’m still not sure where you were going with that.”

“Yeah but I think I’ve figured it out now. Why we’re here.” 

“Oh yeah?” Grif asked. “Care to enlighten me?”

By now the sun had sunk deep into the horizon, taking with it the last of the light not created by artificial sources. The mismatched colors of Grif’s eyes seemed to shine, even in the soft light of the lamps. 

Maybe it was the night air. Or the mood of the party music had snuck out of the building. Or he was out of nerves to fry and didn’t give a fuck anymore. Whatever it was, Simmons was too far in to back out now. “Well, we’ve been together for awhile now and I was thinking we should- if you want to I mean, and if we can find someone to, I mean-… want to make it official?”

He put an arm around Grif, hoping it didn’t come off as too awkward. “I heard Kimball and Carolina talking about someone with a license for this sort of thing just down the street and-”

“ _ Oh my God. _ ” That was it. He’d fucked up and one day soon the universe would come to claim the remains of one Richard Simmons, killed by embarrassment. But the goofy grin plastered to Grif’s face was almost enough to keep Simmons from losing his balance-  _ almost _ . 

Grif was  _ laughing _ . Somehow that made it worse. “Simmons? Are you fucking trying to propose to me?” 

_ Fuck. _

Though he tried to play it cool, Simmons was sure he was failing at that, as well as everything else tonight. “That… had been the general idea, yes. Is- is this a no then? Or… did I say something wrong or-”

“Oh my God we’re the  _ worst  _ at this aren’t we?” Grif had begun to dig through his pockets, as if trying to find something- holy  _ shit.  _

But he didn’t look upset.

And Simmons couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t heard any definite “No.” either.

He felt his heart skip a beat as Grif pulled a small box from his pocket and slid down onto one knee. “Not to one-up you or anything, but-” He opened the box to reveal a gold band inlaid with tiny garnets around the center. “Richard Simmons of the Reds & Blues? Will you marry me?” 

“Oh my God, we really  _ are  _ the worst at this.” Simmons let out a shaky laugh as he allowed Grif to slide the ring onto his finger. “I mean, I’m not exactly husband material, but-”

A sly grin was all the warning had before Grif grabbed his arm and led him into a slow & steady dance. There was no accompanying music, but they didn't need any. 

“You saying metal isn’t husband material?” Grif asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’d say  _ all of you is husband material _ .” 

“Well that’s a relief,”He’s an awkward mess (as always), but for once Simmons isn’t worried about that, “because I was going to say if I don’t meet qualifications half of you won’t either.”

“Nerd.”

“Hey I’m the nerd you just asked to marry you, dumbass.” 

“What do you say we forget going back home and just crash at Kai’s apartment tonight?” Grif suggested. “We can make this official tomorrow.”

“Dammit Grif is there anything you won’t try and put off ‘til later?”

“Why waste the good time we’ve got now?” He spun Simmons around. “I’d hate to leave without finishing our dance.” 

“Then let’s finish it.”

And they did. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where the idea for this fic came from, but I guess I needed both a break from finals and some practice writing something that isn't angst. Don't expect a lot of fluff from me though, most of my next ideas are pretty angst-filled haha
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at:  
> magicalbluelightning (main)  
> anastenlights-art (art-only)


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